Double Crossed
by prxncess
Summary: Upon breaking the curse, Emma and her family are returned to the Enchanted Forest. Everything is going perfectly until the Dark One tasks Emma with retrieving his missing dagger. There's just one thing standing in her way; Killian Jones... AU Captain Swan. Rated T for now.
1. One

**AU in which after Emma broke the curse they were transported back into the Enchanted Forest. However, because I am a masochist and want to make Hook really miserable when they meet, I'm going to alter the timeline a bit. Milah has just died; Hook never went to Neverland or met Cora. To keep things from getting too confusing; Henry's father is just some anonymous man who is unimportant to the story (I'm a bitch, I know). If anyone has any other questions; let me know! Now to the story!**

Emma Swan tugged at the white, silky material covering her body. She repressed the urge to rip off the clothing and the torture device that lay underneath all her layers. You'd think in a world with magic, they would have discovered an alternative to corsets. Since she had arrived in the Enchanted Forest, she'd fought ogres, trolls, and even the Evil Queen, but had quickly discovered that her greatest enemy would be these _insufferable_ dresses.

"You look miserable," her mother smiled as she entered the room with a wooden box in her hands.

"I don't know how you manage this; I look ridiculous."

"Lets just say my years as an outlaw did come with some advantages. For the record, you look beautiful," Snow beamed. Emma shifted uncomfortably underneath her mother's adoring gaze.

"Only because I don't look like myself," Emma retorted and Snow's smile dropped. She turned and focused her attention on the box she had brought in. Emma wanted to smack herself; she never knew when to stop talking and take a compliment. "I'm sorry. I guess I'm just not used to all this," Emma gave her mother a half smile; trying to mend the situation.

"I know," Snow sighed as she opened the box and pulled out the most beautiful piece of jewelry Emma had ever seen. "And that's my fault. But now you're just going to have to get used to it," Snow placed the tiara on her daughter's head and couldn't help the tears that welled in her eyes. The crown had belonged to Queen Ava, Snow White's mother. It was a simple piece compared to some of the other items the vault contained. Adorned with pears and diamonds, it highlighted Emma's beauty without overwhelming her.

"Holy shit," Emma blurted as she took in her reflection. Her mother laughed.

"Couldn't have said it better myself,"

"I look like…" Emma trailed off, searching for words.

"A princess," Snow finished, placing her arms on her daughter's shoulders.

Emma took in her mother's expression; the unfettered pride and love, and any sarcastic rebuttals she had died on her tongue. Emma Swan knew that she wasn't a princess, all hope of that had disappeared the moment she was placed in the wardrobe, but she would do anything to keep Snow looking that happy. "We should go," Emma whispered, effectively breaking up the moment before things became too emotional. Snow pretended not to notice her daughter's unwillingness to let her in and nodded in agreement.

"If you had told me when I was a fugitive that I would be attending the Evil Queen's emwedding, /emI probably would have put an arrow through your head," Snow laughed.

"It took several decades and an adoption to bring her around," Emma reminisced. They'd been in the Enchanted Forest for almost a year and she had managed to strike up an _interesting_ friendship with Regina. In fact, Emma was almost sad to see her marrying Robin. Emma and Regina bickered like cats and dogs make no mistake, but Emma felt that Regina understood her better than most and she would miss the Queen's companionship. Not that Emma Swan minded being alone; she'd done it for 28 years, nevertheless…

"I'll meet you downstairs," Snow stated as she gave her daughter's hand a comforting squeeze. Emma looked herself over in the mirror once more. The crown was lopsided on her head and blonde tendrils had already begun to work their way out of her up-do. The bottom of her dress had begun to fray and she was already sweating under all the layers. This world had also not figured out an equivalent to deodorant and that was going to have to be rectified immediately. Emma Swan was still a mess amidst all the beauty.

 _Still_ … she thought as she did a hesitant twirl in front of the mirror. Emma wasn't a princess. She knew that. But maybe if she pretended for long enough she could become one.

 **OOO**

The wedding was stunningly beautiful, the reception even more so. They sat in an open area, surrounded by pine trees. Tables filled the clearing and white flowers were placed everywhere. Emma was proud of her work. She and Regina had spend the past few weeks perfecting every detail of the wedding. Emma had been a reluctant participant at the beginning but Regina had insisted that Emma use her magic to assist her. em"You need the practice and it means less work for me," /emRegina had said at the time. Now she was happy she had been included in the preparations, although she'd never admit it. Her real masterpiece was Regina's dress. It had been created entirely from their shared magic; a beautiful burgundy piece with incredibly intricate details. When Snow had asked why Regina was departing from the traditional white, the Queen had replied that 1) she had done that before with Snow's father and 2) she was far from pure and everyone at the wedding knew it. That had silenced Emma's mother.

Everything was stunningly beautiful and so Emma couldn't explain the sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. All the guests seemed perfectly content. Regina was dancing with Henry and Roland while Robin looked on. It looked like a fucking Norman Rockwell painting. So, why did she feel so on edge?

"Miss me, dearie?" she heard the voice whisper from behind her. Emma was up like a bullet from a gun, hands crackling with magic as she turned to face him.

Rumpelstiltskin.

She should've known he wouldn't stay away. She hadn't seen him until shortly after they had arrived back in the Enchanted Forest. He had left to find his son. Apparently he hadn't had much luck. "What do you want?" Emma growled out. She turned to see if the others were unharmed when she realized they were frozen in their states of bliss.

"No need to cause a scene, dearie. I simply wish to speak to you," Rumple replied as he perched on one of the wooden chairs.

"Unfreeze them," Emma demanded, eyes never leaving him.

"Now, now that would be counterproductive to our chat. See I need something from you, Miss Swan, and I won't be freeing your family until I get it."

Emma felt herself at an impasse. She knew he wasn't bluffing. She could try and attack him though she doubted she'd get very far on her own. She really only had one option. "What do you want," she snarled.

"I knew you were a reasonable woman, Miss Swan. Now to the problem at present. Someone has taken the Dark One dagger; the one thing that can control me. I need you," Rumple pointed two boney fingers at Emma, "to retrieve it for me."

"Why can't you do it?"

"Because, dearie, I have been barred from doing so. The dagger is in the possession of King George, tucked away I know not where. Retrieve it and return here. Place the dagger in my outstretched hand and I will return your family to their rightful states."

"What do you mean 'place it in my outstretched hand'?" Emma had a feeling this would be far more complicated then he was letting on.

"In order to protect myself from being used, I am freezing myself as well. The only way to reverse the spell is to do exactly as I have instructed; it's really not that hard. You'll need to secure passage to and from King George's kingdom. It's about a month's journey. And if you are to take on King George's forces, you're going to need to sharpen your skills,"

"That's all," Emma laughed dryly. She knew very little about her new home. The trip was going to be difficult to say the least.

"That's all," Rumple purred. "Now, Miss Swan, do we have a deal?"

She had no choice. She had just found her family; she wouldn't let them go now.

"Deal."

 **OOO**

Killian Jones was so close. So close to enacting his revenge.

So close to killing The Crocodile.

He could practically feel the dagger. It was pure luck that Rumpelstiltskin had lost the it shortly after he had crushed Milah's heart. If it had remained in The Crocodile's hands, he surely would have lost it forever. The fact that it was in the hands of the man who Hook blamed for his brother's death was icing on the cake. Two birds one stone, so to speak. It had taken him nearly four months to track the dagger down. Now he stood in the armory beneath King George's castle. It had been tough to get in; the place had been heavily guarded and well protected by traps. Still, Hook had always liked a challenge, and he'd managed. Now he stood right in front of his prize, savoring the moment when he would finally gain what he needed to kill his nemesis. He reached down to grab the blade. Today was a good day. Today was -

Hook's train of thought was interrupted as a blade touched his throat the moment he picked up the dagger. He was quickly spun around, knife still in hand, until he stood face to face with his attacker. The man wore a dark cloak with the hood pulled up. He had a piece of cloth tied over his nose and mouth so that Hook could only see his green eyes peaking out. Green eyes that were staring expectantly at the dagger.

"I've worked very hard to get this, I'm not just going to hand it over to you," Killian told him. The sword the man held pressed further into Killian's neck in reply. "Guess you're going to have to kill me then, mate," Killian smiled.

"Don't think that I won't, _mate_.

Killian couldn't keep the shock off his face when the answering voice came out feminine. He stood there like a fish; gaping at his attacker. Even though her mouth was covered he could tell she was smirking. He finally managed to regain control of his tongue and was about to answer her when he heard the thunder of footsteps coming up the stairs.

Guards.


	2. Two

Killian looked at the woman holding him hostage. The guards were getting closer; Killian could hear their voices shouting about a breach in the armory. The girl was still smirking at him.

"We need to go, lass. They'll be here any moment," Killian said, breaking up their staring contest.

"The dagger, please," she said and reached out her other hand.

"Over my dead body," the pirate growled in response.

"That can be arranged," she shot back, a seemingly playful tone to her voice. Killian was not in the mood.

"By the time you kill me and get the thing, they'll be here and you'll be captured and then what?" Killian fought to keep from yelling.

The girl remained smirking, holding the sword to his throat. "You underestimate me. Besides, easier if the dagger stays here; saves me the trouble of tracking you down," she explained. The calmness in her voice irritated Killian. He was supposed to be good under pressure, his line of work demanded it, but the whole situation had him on edge. He was so close and he wasn't about to let some woman stop him. And then he realized what she was doing. Why she was perfectly content to stand here and waste time with him. It was her only option.

"You're not going to kill me," Killian said, a smile gracing his face. Even though she still had the bandana across her mouth, he could tell her face fell.

"Why do you say that?" her voice remained steady and Killian confirmed what he already knew; she was good under pressure. Still, he had her figured her out and he now had the upper hand.

"I'm calling your bluff, love," Killian quirked an eyebrow as he carefully moved the sword away from his throat. "You won't kill me, so I'm going to take my leave now," even as the words left his lips he was stepping closer to her, daring her to challenge him. He knew he should be leaving, but teasing her was just too much fun, especially as he watched the indignation appear in her eyes. It was the most fun he'd had since…

"You should've given me the dagger," she replied.

"And why's that, love?"

"Because you're right; I won't kill you," Killian watched as her eyes lit up with mirth; she was smiling again and it instantly put him on edge. "But I can't let you leave with what I need,"

"Well, what are you going to do about it?" _Run, idiot,_ he screamed at himself. This wasn't going to end well for him, he could already tell. Her face was so alight with amusement he was surprised she wasn't outright laughing. He wasn't surprised when he felt the blow to his temple. He vaguely registered that she had hit him with the hilt of her sword. That was going to hurt when he awoke. His vision began to blur. He could hear the guards banging on the door. He looked up at her and watched as a gloved hand pulled down her bandana. _Beautiful_.

"That."

The last thing he heard was her laughing.

 **OOO**

Killian's head was pounding. He shouldn't have drunken as much as he did. HIs entire body felt stiff; like he'd taken a beating. HIs bed felt harder then he remembered. And colder. _Wait._

He shot up and instantly regretted it. He took in the sparse cell around him. He was laying on a dirt floor. There was a small hole in the ground in the back corner to use as a toilet. It was dark; only a few torches lit the area around him. That was it. Killian had been in his fair share of prisons, but this one seemed bleaker than the others.

"He lives," he heard a voice call out from somewhere in the darkness. He blinked a few times as he tried to get his eyes to adjust to the darkness. A flash of movement caught his attention as he realized it was the girl from before. She was in the cell across from him. She wore sturdy black boots and her pants appeared to be made of some sort of brown animal hide. Her top was black and she wore a fur cape that was cinched in the waistline by a belt. Her hood was down so Killian could get his first real look at her. She sat with her back against the far wall, ankles crossed, arms folded around her. Her hair was in a neat braid that draped around her shoulder. Green eyes, greener than any emerald he had ever seen, stared at him so intensely he could've sworn she was trying to set him on fire. She was stunning, that much was obvious. Very different from Milah.

 _Milah._

She was why he was here. He could not allow a pretty face to lead him away from his mission. He needed his vengeance. In fact, he was surprised he had become distracted for even a moment. Revenge had become his top priority; he had no other reason to live. Even now as he pondered it it became a little difficult to breathe evenly, his anger towards the crocodile clouding his thoughts. He needed to focus.

"How long was I incapacitated?" Killian asked as he attempted to stand.

"A couple of hours. Be careful, they dropped you a few times on the way down here," the girl smirked at the memory.

"I'm sure that really helped the damage you did," Killian retorted as he slowly made his way to the bars. She said nothing. "Bad form, lass, blindsiding a man like that. What could someone like you want with the dagger, anyways?"

"Someone like me?" she asked, getting up onto her feet.

"Well," Killian started as he began to fiddle with the lock, using his hook in an attempt to break it. "You're clearly not ruthless enough to be trying to enact some sort of revenge, or you would've just killed me. No, you're after something else entirely," Killian sighed in frustration. The lock wasn't budging. They were stuck.

"He has my family," he heard the girl say. His eyebrows shot up and he searched her face for any trace of a lie, but he could find none.

"And you intend to use the dagger to get him to do your bidding," he deduced.

"Not exactly," she admitted. "What do you want with it?" she asked, effectively changing the subject and he could tell that that was all he would garner out of her.

"I intend to kill him."

"And why's that?" Killian could see the genuine curiosity in her eyes and, while he knew he shouldn't, he wanted to share his reasons with her. Only to see her reaction, of course.

"The Dark One took something from me. A _few_ things, actually," he replied, glancingly pointedly at his missing hand. He hoped she would take the bait and discuss the hand rather then what else he had lost that day.

"Yeah, what's with that?" She asked and Killian smiled because he could sense she wanted to press further, but could tell he was reluctant to speak about his other losses. "What are you? Captain Hook," she laughed like it was a joke, but Killian couldn't keep the surprise off his face.

"You've heard of me then?" he asked and her face morphed from one of amusement to shock.

"You're… you mean you're actually… You're…"

"Captain Hook," he finished for her and she began to laugh. Hard. "I'm afraid I've missed the joke," and as hard as he tried, he couldn't keep the smile off his face at her obvious amusement. It felt good to smile. He hadn't smiled in quite some time.

"Don't worry about it. You're just not what I was expecting," she explained.

"Is that a good thing or a bad thing?" Killian asked. Anger had always come easy to him; he had a quick-temper and a penchant for holding grudges. Yet, even though he sensed he was the butt of some joke, he could find no anger inside himself at the moment. The joy on her face destroying any hope he had at being angry.

"I haven't decided yet," she answered. And suddenly her smile disappeared and she looked guilty instead. Like she had been caught doing something bad. Killian could sense the moment between them was over and just like that the darkness returned. "The dagger's gone," she whispered so quietly Killian thought he had misheard.

"Pardon?" The word came out more of a growl then he intended and she saw her flinch visibly.

"I had just gotten my hands on it when the guards came in. They took it. It heard them say something about moving it to a different location. It's… it's gone."

"Well that's bloody perfect isn't it," Killian whispered darkly. He wanted something to hit but there was nothing in the fucking cell. All those months of searching had been for naught. It was gone.

"Believe me, buddy, you're not the only one that's disappointed. Now I need to find a way home," the girl sighed.

"You're giving up at the first sign of trouble. You seemed more determined than that, lass," Killian smiled. Truth be told, he was glad she wasn't going to keep searching for the dagger. Her presence made him uneasy. He felt like he was off his game when she was around; she kept him from focusing on the task at hand.

"I've been at this for months. I need to get back to Mist Haven and my family and figure out an alternate plan."

"Good luck getting out of here," Hook muttered as he gave her a dry smile.

"Oh ye of little faith," she replied. He raised an eyebrow in question, but she merely turned her attention to her hair. Delicate fingers dipped inside her thick braid and emerged with two tiny pins. The girl stuck the two pins within the lock and begin to shift them around.

"What are those?" Hook asked.

"Just a little something from my world. We call them bobby pins; useful for keeping hair in place and getting yourself out of sticky situations,"

"It'll never work," Hook replied, but his eyes remained glued to the lock.

"Oh Captain, haven't you learned by now," she whispered, eyes fluttering closed as she concentrated. Suddenly, they were rewarded with a click and she swung open her door. "Not to underestimate me," she shot back with a smile.

"Good form! Now get me out of here," Hook demanded. He could tell by her sour expression that she did not appreciate him giving her orders. "Please," he amended, although the word tasted like bile passing his lips.

"And why would I do that?" she asked as she pulled up her hood.

"Because you like me," Hook gave her his best "dashing rapscallion" smile although he was quite rusty and the action felt like a betrayal to Milah. Hook watched as the girl looked him up and down, silently appraising him.

"Alright, I'll let you out. On one condition; you give me transport home," she offered.

"Absolutely not!" It would put him too far behind schedule. The sooner he found the dagger the better.

"Have fun getting yourself out then!" she smiled as she refastened her bandana over her mouth and nose. She readjusted her sword on her hip and began to make her exit.

 _Damn._

"Wait, wait, wait," Hook called and the girl turned expectantly. He could always abandon her at the docks. "I'll help you, just get me out of here."

"Gladly," she replied as she grabbed a set of keys off a hook near the main entrance to the prison. Soon enough Hook's door was open and he had attempted to set off. He was stopped as he felt her arm grab his shoulder and spin him around so he was facing her.

"Oh I'm sorry, love. Shall we ask one of the guards for a tour? We need to go," Hook implored, impatience leaking into his voice.

"Hey," she reached up and tugged the bandana down to reveal her face. All words died on Hook's lips as he took in her serious expression. "I'm trusting you. I don't know you and I'm trusting you to get me back to my family and that's pretty huge for me so… don't let me down. Okay?" Her voice was softer then he would've though possible for such a powerful woman.

Killian Jones would never be able to explain why in that moment any thoughts of betraying her vanished from his mind. Why he simply could not bear the idea of letting her down.

"I assure you that I'll get you home and that no harm will come to you while you're with me."

A gloved hand was extended towards him. "Emma Swan," she smiled.

"Emma Swan," he repeated as they shook hands.

 _Emma Swan._

 **OOO**

She wasn't sure if she trusted him just yet, but he seemed earnest enough. She could probably secure passage with some other vessel, but this was the easiest option. She was glad she had chosen not to leave while he was passed out; he was a captain, things couldn't have turned out better if she had tried. His face seemed genuine as she shook his hand; she was nearly certain he wouldn't leave her at the docks or something. Emma pulled the bandana back around her face as she followed him out.

 _Damn_. She'd hate to betray him.

Her hand dipped into her bag as she clutched the handle of the Dark One dagger. Betraying him would suck, but she needed to get back to her family. Back to Henry.

Pushing back her uneasiness, Emma Swan followed the one-handed pirate into the darkness.

 **Hi friends! I'm back with another update - be warned though updates won't normally come this quickly! Emma's outfit looks a lot like Snow's outlaw outfit, but in black (in case you were having trouble** **visualizing!). Thank you for all the feedback on the last chapter and reviews/follows/favorites are much appreciated on this one! Love you all!**


	3. Three

She should bail. This guy was a pirate for fuck's sake, and that reality was confirmed by the large sailboat looming in the distance. Emma knew absolutely nothing about boats, her childhood hadn't exactly left time for sailing lessons, but even she appreciated its beauty. It was large and intimidating and she could see little figures scurrying around as they approached. Pirates.

 _Pirates._

The only pirates she had previous knowledge of were Jack Sparrow and Captain Hook, and so far one of those depictions wasn't holding up to the test of reality. Her mother was Snow freakin' White and she couldn't wrap her head around the fact that in front of her was Captain Hook. It was probably because he was so damn attractive, but she'd never admit that aloud. Still, she knew pirates weren't exactly known for their generosity and charity, and if she got onto this boat she'd be committed. It wasn't like she could just hop off at any time. Hook could also find the dagger and then she'd really be screwed. Then there was also the issue of her reputation.

"Hook," Emma called tentatively when they were just about to board. The men could see her now, obvious curiosity etched onto their features as to why the captain had company.

"What?" he snapped. She had no idea what had made him so irritable. They had been silent the whole trip to the boat so it couldn't have been anything she'd done. He was quite moody. No matter, it wasn't her job to figure him out; she just needed to get home.

"There's something you should know."

"Out with it then," Hook pressed. Emma had to stop from rolling her eyes at his tone.

"These past months I've developed somewhat of a name for myself. I'm kind of notorious as a," _savior, lost princess, symbol of rebellion against King George's new regime,_ "bandit."

"Most bandits are notorious, what's your point?"

"I'm _very_ notorious. Like, most wanted, public execution notorious. I'd fetch a high price if someone felt so inclined, and if any of them," Emma gestured with her head to the men on the boat, "catch wind of that… it could be very bad for me," she finished. Hook nodded slowly, turning his head to the right so he was no longer looking at her.

"And what makes you think I won't turn you in?"

Emma didn't know why, but she sensed what she said next would carry a lot of weight. She didn't hesitate. "Because we were in the castle of the richest man in the realm, and you didn't touch anything but that dagger. You're not a man motivated by money. Besides, you could've killed me at any point and you didn't. You have a code."

Killian's eyes snapped to her on that last word and for a brief moment she could see some long repressed emotion surface. Then it was gone.

"Don't worry about the men, they won't give you a second glance."

"Really?" Emma asked, skepticism leaking into her voice.

"Yes, love," he gave her a twisted smile and something in Emma turned cold. "Because you aren't the first woman I've had on this ship and you certainly won't be the last."

 **OOO**

It could've been much worse. There had been the stupid comments and praising of her looks, but for the most part the crew kept it pretty PG. Although, Emma sensed they had much more to say, but the look on Hook's face kept them from speaking out. The crew were currently dispersing to perform their various tasks to get them out of port. Hook wanted to push off before first light and Emma appreciated the haste.

"Come, I'll show you to your chambers," Hook muttered lowly under his breath, refusing to meet her eyes. Yeah, she'd definitely need to figure out what that was about.

"Excuse me, m'am!" a voice called out and Emma turned to see a portly man with a red hat approaching her. He gave a little bow when he reached her.

"William Smee, at your service," the man said as he extended his hand.

"Emma… Raven," she said as she took it. She wasn't sure what possessed her to lie, no one in this realm knew her last name except for her family. _And Hook._

"If you need anything at all, don't hesitate to let me know," Smee smiled and Emma was taken aback by the kindness. She pushed back the little voice in her gut telling her not to trust him; he was just being nice.

"Don't you have something to do, Smee?" Hook barked, startling both Emma and her company.

"Yes, Captain," Smee muttered and scurried off before Emma could say anything.

"That was rude," she admonished as she shot a glare at Hook. He rolled his eyes and stalked off. Emma followed.

"Smee's a rat; don't trust him." Hook called as they walked through a door and into a small hallway. Doors lined the corridor on all sides and Hook stopped at one on the right. He pulled out a key ring from his belt and unlocked the door. It swung open to reveal a tiny room with a small cot pushed into a corner. A mirror was mounted on the wall and below was a small wash bin.

"Just like the Hilton," Emma sighed.

"Pardon?" Hook asked, although judging by his tone he didn't care.

"Nothing. I think I preferred prison."

"Well, that's what this functions as. We don't normally keep captives; I prefer to kill them immediately, so it's usually free," Hook explained nonchalantly.

"Fun."

"Get some rest," Hook nodded tersely. He _really_ wasn't the warmest.

Emma was about to let him go, but realized there was one more favor she needed to ask of him. "Hey!" she called. He stopped in the middle of the doorway that led outside and she could tell he was debating on ignoring her. He didn't.

"What?"

"Do you have any clothes I could borrow? I've been in this stuff for the past couple days and I'd really appreciate it."

"Have I not given you enough?" Hook's voice rose and Emma had no idea what had caused that reaction.

 _Play it off._ "Well, I just figured since I wasn't the first woman on your ship maybe you'd have some left over stuff," she replied. She tried to muster the warmest smile she could, she really wanted those clothes, but it fell flat and so she just stared at him. She could practically see the war he was having with himself. Without uttering a word, he strode down the hallway to the door on the opposite end. It was the grandest of all the entryways, with intricate carvings and fixtures. Hook took three keys and began the arduous process of unlocking the door.

"You're a little paranoid, aren't you?" Emma asked as she gestured to the locks.

"I like my privacy," Hook shot back as he pushed open the door.

This was her first glimpse into the mind of Captain Hook.

The room was an absolute mess. Various pieces of paper and maps were scattered about on the desk and floor. His bunk was unmade and a cracked mirror sat on the floor; it looked like it had been punched. Various pieces of furniture had been flipped over in what had clearly been a fit of rage. Empty rum bottles were littered about and there were scratch marks in certain places on the wall as though he had taken his hook and beaten it against the wood. Her eyes went to the only thing that appeared to be untouched in the room; a golden tool with a lot of different handles. She made her way over to the thing; it must've been very important if it had survived his wrath. Just as her fingers were about to graze its surface, a sharp voice made her jump back.

"Don't touch that!" Hook shouted. She whipped around to see him staring at her, red-faced and furious, with a pile of clothes in his hand. She had seen him irritated and annoyed, but never this livid. She felt like she had just been caught shoplifting; not an unfamiliar feeling although entirely unwelcome.

"What is it?" Emma asked. She wanted to smack herself; _not the right thing to say._

"It's a sextant," Hook sputtered, still taken aback that she would dare try and handle it.

"Sorry," Emma shrugged. Expressing sincerity had never come easy to her.

"Just don't touch anything," Killian growled as he shoved the clothes into her hands, "Here." He strode over to a half-drunken bottle of rum on his desk and took a long swig.

Emma played with the material in her hands. It was soft and durable; not nearly as revealing as she would've thought given the types of women she assumed he kept company with. No, this stuff had been taken care of; it was well-worn, but still in excellent condition. You only kept stuff like this when…

"I'm the first woman on the ship since you lost her," Emma whispered, she didn't even realize she had said it until she took in the expression on his face; the pain.

"What?" he asked, voice strained as he watched her.

"That's why you've been so weird since we boarded; because it feels like a betrayal," Emma concluded. Hook simply watched her for a long time; eyes moving in and out of focus.

"Get out," he said suddenly, voice emotionless.

"What?" Emma asked.

"You have your clothes now get out. You think you know me, Swan? You don't know _anything_ about me. You and I are not the same, so stop trying to figure me out. Just take your things and go."

Emma had never been good with emotions. She'd never had anyone to comfort her in her own times of weakness, which meant she had no idea how to do it for others. So she did what he asked and left. She went into her tiny room and put her head between her knees and tried to breath through the anger. Emma didn't know why that hurt so badly. She couldn't explain why the words felt like a knife to her chest; why a sudden weight settled over her, but she didn't like it. He was right; she didn't know him. He was clearly broken, but then so was she. Who was she to try and figure him out? She didn't need to sympathize with him; they weren't friends, he was doing her a service. It wasn't her job to take care of him. She had one job and that was to save her family. She would stay far away from him and when all was said and done she would thank him and go on her way.

Captain Hook was not hers to fix.


	4. Four

He couldn't let her get inside his head. The Swan woman, with her bright green eyes that only barely managed to conceal her pain, was proving to be quite the problem. Even now he could see how easily she could veer him off his course of revenge. It wasn't that he was _attracted_ to her, that was clearly a ludicrous notion, but she was quickly becoming a distraction from his pain. When he was with her, it was like a respite from all that happened; from the weight of Liam and Milah and being _Captain Hook._ There were moments with her where he could feel his former self scratching at the surface; the man he was before all the shite hit the ceiling.

But he wasn't that man anymore and he never would be again. The sooner she was off his damn ship the better.

He needed a drink.

 **OOO**

She couldn't sleep. It wasn't a surprise really; insomnia had plagued her since her childhood and it had only seemed to get worse since their arrival in the Enchanted Forest. There were many nights where she would roam the castle, _her_ castle and imagine what it would have been like to grow up there. Her father would've danced with her at balls and her mother would've taught her how to greet foreign dignitaries. She would've learned to horseback ride and sword-fight. She would've traveled the realm and met all sorts of people. She would've been loved.

But a curse and a magical wardrobe ripped that life from her.

She couldn't be all mad though. All that pain had brought her Henry and she'd do it a thousand times over if it brought him into her life. Her son was her greatest joy, the most important thing in her life, the person she was fighting like hell to get back to.

As Emma thought of her family, frozen in time yet again thanks to Rumpelstiltskin, she realized there was no way in hell she was sleeping. She was just about to go explore the deck when she heard it; the screaming. She was on her feet in a flash and nearly ripped the door of its hinges to get to him, her instincts kicking in. She didn't know how she knew it was Hook, but she did understand what was happening. Henry had screamed like this the first few months in the Enchanted Forest. It was the scream you made when you were having a horrific nightmare. For Henry, they were an apparent side-effect of the sleeping curse. Regina had been wracked with guilt over the situation and it had taken them quite some time to figure out how to calm him down. It had actually been David who had offered a solution; a candle to "trap" the nightmares. It had worked for his grandmother, and it worked wonders for Henry.

Yet, as she reached Hook's door, she realized that this was not her son. She had no idea how to comfort him, or even if he wanted to be comforted at all. He didn't strike her as the type to lay all his feelings out on the table for her. She tried the door and was frustrated but unsurprised to find he had locked it. She was considering banging on it until he woke himself up when a voice interrupted her thoughts.

"I wouldn't do that if I was you."

Emma whipped around to see the man from before, Smee, standing there with a look that almost resembled that of a disapproving parent.

"You don't expect me to just leave him in there," she shot back.

"We've all tried to help him. He doesn't want it. Cap'n has been drowning in his pain for so long I don't think he remembers what it's like to be able to breathe," Smee replied with a deep sadness in his eyes. Emma was surprised at what appeared to be genuine concern for Hook. She had been under the impression that pirates stuck together for self-serving reasons, but there appeared to be genuine loyalty between Smee and the captain.

"What happened?" she called out exasperatedly and he began a new round of screaming.

"That's too long a story for one evening," Smee replied curtly and she could tell he wasn't going to be divulging anything else. As if to confirm her theory, Smee gave a small nod and stalked back above deck.

She considered following after him, but something about being around the crew without the presence of Hook put her off. Most of them would probably leave her be, and if it came down to it she could handle herself, but it was better not to risk it. She then considered returning to her room and placing her very itchy (the inside was hay… _hay)_ pillow over her head to try and block out his screaming. Yet, as he started up again, as every scream tore into her, she knew she couldn't do that. He didn't have anyone. She knew what that was like, and as someone who now had a whole kingdom looking out for her, she couldn't leave him alone. So Emma Swan sank down to the floor and pressed her back up against his door. Maybe he didn't want her there, but that didn't mean she was leaving. She'd hover on the outside, unseen, and try to protect him from whatever was troubling him.

Emma Swan stayed all night, even after he had settled down, guarding him from his monsters as best she could.

 **OOO**

She continued this dance, keeping him at arm's length during the day and sitting vigil outside his door at night, for the next few days. He seemed perfectly content to avoid her like the plague, so little contact was exchanged between them. What few conversations they did have went something like:

"We'll be docking in a port in a few days. You can find some new clothes."

"Okay."

Or there was the one time she tried to initiate conversation:

"When did you learn to sail?"

"Long time ago."

Scintillating.

So Emma, ever the loner, kept mostly to herself. Occasionally she would strike up conversation with Smee, who was quite the interesting character. He was particularly guarded about how exactly he came to join the crew which told her there was more to that story. He divulged absolutely no information about Hook, which Emma both resented and respected. In fact, the loyalty in Smee towards his captain was evident in all of the crew men. Emma didn't quite understand it until a conversation she had with another pirate, Deacon. Deacon was an older man who had clearly seen his fair share of fights because he had scars littering his body and his right eye appeared to have been gouged out. The rest of the crew gave him a wide berth, which meant he was the perfect companion for Emma. The first few times she had approached him, he had practically growled at her and she had quickly scurried off to the other end of the boat, much to the amusement of the other men. She could tell that even Hook, who was doing his best to pretend he wasn't always watching her, had a smile plastered on his face. That, of course, only fueled Emma's fire. So she took a page from Henry's book and formulated Operation Surly Pirate. It started off small; she would smile at him whenever she passed by and in turn he eventually began grunting in response. Then she began to eat her meals on the ground in his general vicinity until one day she felt something small and round hit her thigh. She looked down to see an orange resting peacefully against her side. When she glanced back up she noticed Deacon staring at her.

"For the scurvy" he said and then he smiled a nearly toothless grin. She heard someone gasp and looked over to see a deckhand staring at them with his mouth wide open. She let out a laugh and slid up next to him. She had no idea where he had gotten the orange but she hadn't seen fruit in a long time so suffice it to say she was grateful. After that, Deacon acted as her unofficial bodyguard. Anytime anyone looked at her sideways, Deacon was there snapping and biting like he was feral. It wasn't long until most of the men began to treat her with respect, no matter how begrudgingly it may have been, given that she had both Hook (even though he wasn't speaking to her) and Deacon's favor. The two spent most of their time together, albeit in relative silence since neither one were big talkers. He was in the process of teaching her various knots when she finally managed to get some information about Hook's past.

"Good knot lass. Ye'd make a fine sailor."

"Thank you, Deacon," Emma smiled. Deacon wasn't one to give unwarranted compliments and it was a damn good knot.

"I can think of better use for those pretty hands," a voice rang out. Emma looked up to see a large man watching her with a malicious glint in his beady eyes. He was a solid wall of muscle and she could tell, even from her seated position, that he would tower over her. She had gained the favor of most of the crew, but a few still made lewd comments.

"Problem, Morgan?" Deacon growled from her side. He had placed the rope to the side and while he wasn't on his feet yet, Emma knew he would fight for her. Not that she would need him to. She could take one beefy, meat-headed pirate.

"I'm just sick of you and Cap'n hogging the shiny new toy," Morgan growled, advancing slowly towards her. Emma and Deacon were on their up in a second. Emma regretted that she had stopped carrying a weapon on her a few days after she had boarded the ship. _Stupid._ She'd have to use her fists, which wasn't going to be as effectual but wasn't a complete loss. She suspected Deacon could hold his own in a fight so there was that, but she didn't know how well-liked Morgan was and if anyone would defend him. She never got the chance to find out because someone grabbed Morgan's forearm from behind and spun him around before placing a hand around his neck.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Hook growled so menacingly Emma took an involuntary step back. She had seen several sides of Hook since she'd entered the ship, but now she understood where the fearsome reputation came from. He was looking at Morgan with such raw fury Emma was surprised Morgan hadn't been incinerated by the power of the gaze.

"Nothin' Cap'n I-I swears it. I was just- I was havin' a little fun ya see. I didn't mean no harm," Morgan spluttered like a fish on land, but he was cut off as Hook tightened his grip on Morgan's neck.

"I don't know how your old Captain did things, and seeing how I can't consult him because I killed him, I don't really care. On _my_ ship you don't go near the Captain's women. She," Hook wrenched Morgan's head in Emma's direction so he was looking at her, "is _mine_. She's under my protection so that means you don't go near her, you don't look at her, you don't think about her, if you even breathe the same air as her you'll meet the same fate your Captain did. Is that clear?" Hook growled. Morgan seemed to be at a loss for words so he only nodded. Hook shoved him and the man stumbled backwards before running off below deck. Hook turned to face Emma. "You alright, lass?"

"Thanks to you, I'm just fine," Emma smirked.

"Not a problem," Hook replied, giving her a tight smile of his own.

"Guess you're going to have to stop pretending like you don't like me."

"Don't count on it darling. Can't have someone touching my things." She knew the second thing was said in jest, but she couldn't help but bristle. Someone else used to say things like that and that was one ghost she wanted to stay buried.

"I don't belong to anyone. I'm not yours," she snapped back. Hook seemed momentarily taken aback but he quickly covered it up. She expected him to yell at her for talking to him like that, but something shifted in his countenance. He was looking at her like she was a wounded animal he didn't want to startle.

"Wouldn't dream of it, lass," he replied. His voice was sort and there was something else in his tone. Some sort of sadness; he seemed tired. Before Emma could read too much into it, he turned on his heel and began to march away.

"Hook," Emma called, the pirate turned his head, not quite looking back at her. "Thank you."

"Take care of her Deacon," Hook called to the older sailor before he turned and left.

"Aye, Cap'n," Deacon replied as Hook stalked off. The crew backed up as he passed, clearing sensing he wasn't to be pushed at the moment. Emma watched him until he was back behind the wheel before she settled back down beside Deacon.

"Thank you for your help," Emma smiled as she picked up the rope to continue her work.

"No worries, lass. Cap'n won't let anythin' happen to ye," Deacon replied as his boney fingers weaved the knot together.

"You all are quite chivalrous for a band of pirates," Emma said. She was hesitant to broach the subject, but she wanted confirmation that more was going on here than she was being let on.

"We weren't always pirates." Deacon's hands stopped moving. _There it was._

"No?" Emma asked, attempting to sound disinterested. Deacon gave her a look that told her he wasn't buying it.

"No. A good lot of us were members 'o th' Kin''s Navy. The kin' was a no-good, corrupt liar and when Cap'n found out he defected. We followed," Deacon's look turned hazy as he stared out on the open water.

"There's more to the story than that, isn't there?" Emma questioned, hesitation clear in her voice.

"There always is, lass," Deacon smiled as he snapped out of his fog. "But if you want to know more, I suggest you take that up with him," Deacon moved his head in Hook's direction and Emma turned to look at the Captain. His eyes were no longer trained on them, but she knew he was still paying attention. Sure enough, his gaze traveled up briefly and met her own. Emma gave him a small smile and had the satisfaction of watching the surprise flicker across his face. He looked around, seemingly surprised she could be smiling at him and for a brief moment the Captain Hook bravado was gone. He had clearly lost much, not unlike Emma herself, and it had been a while since anyone had shown any softness around him. Emma's smirk grew as he finally seemed to accept that she was, in fact, grinning at him and he gave her a shy one in return before fixing his gaze on the sea.

"And now he's searching for the Dark One dagger," Emma asked as she turned back to Deacon who was still doing his knots.

"Aye, to avenge Milah," Deacon replied reflexively before he realized he probably shouldn't have said anything. The look on his face was priceless as she watched him look around to make sure no one heard him.

"Don't worry." Emma laughed, "I'm not going to say anything."

"Good. Cap'n doesn't like when we bring her up. Not taking the curse into account, we only lost her a year or so ago. She was a big part of the crew, the only person he trusted since his years in the navy. She was his first mate. Dark One took her. Wounds are still raw," Deacon stopped talking abruptly and Emma got the sense that Hook wasn't the only one who missed Milah.

So this was the woman whose clothes Emma wore. This was the woman that Hook had clearly cherished. This was the woman whose death had sparked such a deep rooted hatred and need for vengeance within Hook that he would stop at nothing to get his revenge. Emma began to feel guilty about lying to him about the dagger, which was currently tucked up against her side beneath her clothing. This man had clearly been through a lot, and, as far as Emma could tell, didn't really have anyone. His crew respected and admired him, but no one really loved him. He didn't have any friends and there certainly wasn't any family lurking around. Captain Hook was completely alone.

Just like she was.

 **OOO**

He had known she would try and befriend Deacon. If he had learned nothing else about her it was that Emma Swan was stubborn. Deacon had always provided a formidable challenge. The man was loyal to a fault but kept to himself (and by that Hook meant he practically ripped the head off of anyone who came near). So Hook had assumed that while Emma may try briefly to befriend him, Deacon would resist her efforts and she would give up.

Typical that Deacon would cave.

He shouldn't be surprised, really. Emma had continually surprised him since she boarded his damn ship. She would make friends with a man who had once attempted to strangle a sailor who looked at him too long. Not that Hook was one to judge. His reputation was much worse. Deacon may rough men up, but he showed mercy where Hook had been known not to have any. Deacon would break your arm. Hook would break your neck.

So maybe it was Emma then. Maybe she was drawn to the dangerous ones. Maybe she made them softer around the edges. _Maybe…_

One thing was for sure; he was definitely screwed.

 **I'm back! Managed to write a bit whilst on college break! As always, please review and favorite!**


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